To You, The One I Loved
by JoyHeart
Summary: There was more to Queen Elizabeth's statement that she was married to England than you might think. Much more. England tells his tale to a stunned America on his living room rug amongst empty sherry bottles. Trilogy, quasi-historical, critical reviews ok.


To You, the One I Loved

_"Consorts both in throne and grave, here we rest two sisters, Elizabeth and Mary,  
in hope of our resurrection."_

The inscription was etched elegantly into the Westminster Abbey tomb. A man with blond hair and bushy eyebrows was looking at it as one who had read them many times, lips twitching at the sight, as they always did when he gazed upon it. What, he wondered, would Elizabeth have said if she had known she was fated to lie beside her hateful sister, who had made her life miserable and locked the future ruler in London's Tower, for eternity?

The man ran a finger gently across the moulded face of the coffin's effigy, so flawless and lifelike it had once made the British masses gasp to view it. Once, the British people had mourned their Queen more than any other. But citizens grow old and die, and their children do not mourn those they never knew.

The blond man, Arthur Kirkland, sighed and his green eyes moved slowly over the tomb a final time before turning to go. He was the only one allowed to touch the tomb of course. The Abbey allowed only Arthur the privilege of marvelling at her sleeping form at as close a range. He opened his mouth to sigh and instead was shocked to hear a sob escape his lips. Quickly covering his mouth he became aware that his eyes were stinging with tears that were threatening to overflow. Turning from the tomb with haste, Arthur made some choked gasps before he was able to get control of himself again. Turning back to the tomb he managed the shakiest of smiles.

"After all this time, you'd still have me cry for you?" Arthur whispered hoarsely into the room, feelings of depression gnawing at his brain. God he needed a drink. He left the darkened room.

Outside the noble church of Westminster the air was crisp and cold. Turning up his collar against the chilly breeze, Arthur made way for the nearest pub.

* * *

_The year was 1533 in the country of England. King Henry VIII was on the throne and had made a rather disturbing announcement._

"_Y-you're marrying a second wife, your highness?" Arthur had asked his King with disbelief. His ruler sat grumpily on his throne, throwing a dissatisfied look at his current wife, Catharine of Aragorn who was cradling their daughter Mary in her arms and shooting her husband a glare. Arthur watched the silent exchange and shook his head, turning his attention back on the man fully. "But sir, we're Catholic, that isn't allowed!"_

_"I'm the King; I can do whatever I bloody well want! Call the church and tell them I'm starting a new division of Christianity! Call it Henry's Awesome Religion!"_

_"Sir, that sounds sort of um, braggy, and don't you think this is a little extreme? I'm sure given enough time Catharine can produce a male heir."_

_"Oh piss off! I'm starting a new religion and that's final! And well... fine we can call it Anglican or something. Happy?"_

_"No!"_

_"Well piss on you England, I'll do what I want!"_

_And so King Henry VIII disrespected England's wishes and created a Protestant religion, forcing his kingdom to acknowledge him as head of this new church. He then promptly divorced and banished his wife, taking on Anne Boleyn as his second wife of many. England stood in fuming anger as the screaming baby girl was drawn from Anne's womb nine months later and secretly Arthur felt that Henry deserved to miss out on the heir he had wanted. England resented this unwelcome, and in his mind 'bastard', child of the King and after consecutive wives and failed attempts at receiving an heir England was more than content to grasp the Queen Mary and her husband as rulers of the re-declared Catholic nation. With a firm reconnection with Catholicism, his troubles were sure to be at an end. Right?_

_

* * *

_

"Um, England?"

"No Uni, not now, I've got a splitting headache," Arthur moaned and kicked his foot out restlessly. He felt like shit and couldn't seem to recall where he was or what he had been doing.

"England, dude, are you okay?" Arthur became aware that he was being poked in the ribs. He also noted that he was on the ground. He blearily opened his eyes and grimaced.

Alfred Jones, the country of America, was standing over his head. Great, just what he needed to wake up to with a bleeding hangover.

"Sod off you giant wank!" Arthur glared up at his former colony and turned over, noticing that he was face to face with a sherry bottle. His eyes travelled below this bottle and noticed a bottle of gin and tonic, and nearby an empty rum bottle. He grimaced. "Good God, how much did I drink? And how the bloody hell did I get to my living room anyway?"

Alfred snorted. "Oh man, you were totally wasted! I mean black out drunk, you were tearing your clothes off singing your national anthem and everything!"

"Now hold on just a minute!" Arthur closed his eyes, trying to see if he could recall anything about the night before. He remembered visiting the Abbey and a chill came over him, then he remembered going to the pub... having a pint of ale... not much else came to mind, but Alfred had most certainly not been there. "How do you know what I was doing? And what are you doing here now?"

Alfred sighed and reached over to slap his big bro on the back. "Okay dude, here's what happened. You got drunk off your ass, got thrown out of the bar, wouldn't leave, they called the cops, the cops took you to the station, they checked your ID and called me to pick you up. I flew here (by the way you are totally paying for the plane ticket man that's expensive) and took you home. But damn you just wouldn't let up and snuck out of bed and started drinking any alcohol you had in the house! And stripping, singing, you were out of your mind I'm telling you. Never seen you like that before, you're just lucky I was home and they didn't have to call France."

The British man shuddered visibly at the thought of Francis taking him house while he was actively trying to take his clothes off... "Well, be that as it may, how could you let me near more of this bleeding stuff when I was so clearly pissed off my arse?"

"I dunno, I thought you needed it or something. Whenever you kind of looked like you were sobering up you started crying and screaming about lizards, did you get bit by one or something?" Alfred gave Arthur a questioning looked. Arthur gave one right back.

"What... lizards?"

"Yeah, you kept sobbing saying 'lizzies, lizzies, lizzies' so I dunno, I guess they were upsetting you and I kinda liked you better when you were singing to crying I guess. But hey, you're obviously getting better at holding your drinks cause you went a real long time before passing out!" Alfred flashed Arthur a grin and gave a thumbs up. Arthur did not return the gesture. In fact, he looked rather green.

"Um, England?"

"I think I was saying... Lizzie..." And then Arthur emptied his insides all over the living room rug.

* * *

_England was being torn apart from the inside out. Queen Mary and her husband were executing Protestants at every turn while the Protestants led rebellions after their Catholic overlords. Unhappiness was raining down upon the country's blond head, and he was sick of it. None the less, he was still loyal to his rulers and therefore would try to assist them any way he could._

_"Your highnesses," Arthur stooped into a low bow, "The rebels appear to have taken the Queen's half sister as their heroine. They believe if they allow her to ascend the throne they will be able to preach their Protestant filth and eradicate Catholicism, we cannot allow this to occur!"_

_"Yes, yes you're quite right," the Queen nodded firmly and answered before her husband could get out a word, "I never liked that prissy Lizzie tart much anyway, let's chuck her in the Tower of London and be done with it then."_

_"Of course, your highness," Arthur bowed again, feeling rather pleased with himself, though thinking it might've been better to simply lop off the tart's head. Oh well, he supposed the ties of family must keep them together though Lord knows their father had no problem lopping off the head of any family member who got in his way._

_It was a few years later on April 17, 1555 that Elizabeth was sent for from her prison. Queen Mary believed herself pregnant and wished for her sister to be with her as this birth would determine whether or not Elizabeth would indeed succeed her as queen. After a while of waiting, England was irked to learn that the old bat hadn't been pregnant to begin with and this fuss was Elizabeth was all for nothing._

_"Blooming tart," Arthur would now mutter under his breath when either sister passed him in the hallways._

_

* * *

_

"Dude, I think you're totally being the opposite of awesome right now. I'm only trying to help, stop pushing!" Alfred snapped as Arthur tried his best to boot the larger nation out his front door.

"I hardly need what you call help! I'm sober now so get out!" Arthur heaved and managed to scoot America closer to the door, closer, but not nearly far enough.

"Now hold on Eyebrows, no need to get all mad. Look, I just asked who Lizzie was, it's not like it's a big deal..."

"NOT A BIG DEAL? How could you even SAY that you bloody-!" Arthur cut himself off and took some deep breaths. He really could not deal with this right now. "I honestly cannot believe I was the one who raised you."

"Hmm, well technically you _did_ leave me alone a lot so..." Alfred shrugged, "Anyway, I'm not going to leave when you're upset, so tell me what's got you trying to kill yourself from alcohol poisoning?"

Seeming to realise that America would not be leaving anytime soon, Arthur sighed and stopped pushing. Instead he folded his arms and looked up at Alfred crossly.

"It's really none of your business, but..." Arthur sighed, his facade slipping a little as images flashed behind his eyelids.

* * *

_"So my sister wants to see me, does she? Has she finally decided to do me in?" Elizabeth laughed bitterly to England's face. The blond man frowned, but after everything Mary had been putting him through, the burnings, the uprisings, the general idiocy... perhaps this bastard child couldn't be much worse. As far as England was concerned, Catholicism seemed to have run most of its course and he was about ready to give in to Henry's bloody Anglicanism if it brought relief from all this torment. He was ready to deliver his message to the girl he had long despised._

_"No, in fact your sister has become ill and in lieu of a child she wishes for you to return to the castle to be prepared for taking over the crown," Arthur said in a matter-of-fact tone. _

_Elizabeth's eyes widened and she stared at him speechless for a moment. Then she stood slowly from the bed she'd been reading on. She crossed the room to the somewhat uneasy nation and raised a pale hand to his face. England stood frozen in shock as her finger dared trace its way up his cheek and smoothed its way over one of his bushy eyebrows._

_"Hmm, I always liked these," she said with a thoughtful expression. Then she smirked and tugged a hair out._

_"OUCH! What the hell was that for?" England reared back and rubbed the spot he'd been plundered from._

_"I wondered if you could feel pain from something as small as that. A nation and yet a human, haven't you ever thought that something strange? I always did. Well England, I will have you know that I intend to be a fair and just ruler, so never fear." She winked, and England could not help but feel as if he had suddenly been dragged in over his head._

_

* * *

_

"But what? Hey, England," Alfred waved a hand in front of the blond Brit's spaced out eyes. Arthur jerked backward a pace and rubbed a finger along one of his eyebrows as if some phantom pain had pierced it.

"Damn, I just can't stop... damn it..." Arthur noticed the tears coming from his eyes and couldn't stop them. His knees weakened and collapsed beneath him as he fell to the ground, sobs racking his body.

Alfred was, understandably, extremely freaked out.

"WOAH! DUDE! Y-you're not still drunk are you? Come on, you never cry when you're sober!" Well, this wasn't entirely true. He had seen England break down like this once before but he didn't like to think about that time. It wasn't exactly a pleasant memory. "Come on England, you, er, dude, what happened?" he said this softly, kneeling beside the older country and awkwardly putting a hand on his shoulder. England usually would have shrugged him away, the fact that he did not only added to America's concern.

"I-it's really nothing, d-damn it," Arthur sniffed heavily and would not look up, "I-it was so l-long ago now, I-I haven't a bloody clue why it feels like its drug up all of a sudden. It's like her ghost is haunting me after over four hundred years!"

"G-g-g-ghost? You're haunted? Holy shit England why didn't you fucking warn me?" America went to yank his hand away and evacuate the area before the potential spooks could get to him. He was prevented from doing so by England's fingers flashing forward and snatching his shirt sleeve, effectively pulled him back down. America looked fearfully at Alfred, but that fear dimmed as the Brit managed to look up with a worn expression.

"I meant it figuratively you stupid ninny," he said in a slightly hoarse whisper. He coughed a bit and let go of Alfred's shirt sleeve, curling his knees up to his chest and sighing deeply. America was still unsure about the absence of ghouls, but did manage to hold ground where he was. They sat in silence for a short while before Arthur spoke again, into his legs. "I... I've... I've been thinking about the past a lot lately."

"Oh, well, um, dude. I mean, we get along better now right? It's not like we're fresh out of the war gates or anything so..."

"What on earth are you on about?" England glared, his eyes flashing to America's.

"Um, the Revolutionary War? That's why you're upset right?"

Arthur slammed his head back into his knees. "You really only think about yourself, don't you?"

"Oh! Oh it's not that?" America's eyes widened. Arthur scoffed loudly.

"Obviously! For your information, I'm thinking about... well about..." his voice dropped significantly, "Elizabeth."

"Who?"

Arthur coughed, blushing brightly. "Elizabeth the first."

"Who?"

Arthur looked at his former colony in irritation. "_Queen_ Elizabeth the first."

"Who?"

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! You are a completely uncultured swine, you know that?" Arthur looked around his reaching distance for something to throw at the other man's thick skull. Finding the sherry bottles were too far away, he committed himself to looking at the other nation in a significantly sulky manner.

"Oh come on England, just tell me who this Queen was, was she an ex-boss or something?" Alfred asked, poking Arthur's shin. This earned him a glare.

"Yes, she was my ruler," England said with an exasperated sigh. This his expression grew shaky. "A-and..."

"And what?" America asked brightly, happy that England's crying fit really didn't have to do with him after all.

"A-and... she was..." England swallowed, his mouth feeling very dry.

"Was what?" America resumed steadily poking Arthur's leg.

"She was... my... wife..." England finished in the softest of whispers, but America heard it and stiffened completely. His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open. He sat back on his haunches and looked utterly taken aback by this revelation.

"You- but- she- if she was your boss then wasn't she- well..." Alfred scratched his head, trying to figure out where the joke was in this, because... well it _had_ to be a joke right? "But dude, she was a... well a _human_ right? A... a _citizen_, right? I mean, you and me, and other guys like us, well, we can bang them sure I mean France does it all the time but, we don't _marry_ them. Or even have relationships with them. We just... well we just _don't_."

"Well **I** did alright? Happy? Now you know who Elizabeth was! Now bugger off!" England snapped and looked firmly away. Inside though he felt his veins turn to ice. He had told. He had admitted it to another country. He had never, ever done that before. It was too shocking. Too unheard of. Too... well 'too' a lot of things really. He had known that well, at that time.

Alfred bit the inside of his lip and looked like he was trying to process the situation for a moment. After he had gotten his head around the idea that England, strong reliable England, had done something as ridiculous as marry a citizen he nodded firmly and managed to smile at the man with the eyebrows.

"So, how did you end up marrying her anyway?"

Arthur looked up in surprise. He supposed a country with more tact would have gotten up and left in disgust or bewilderment at this point, but America was of course tactless as usual. Still, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to talk about this, about her. Who knows, perhaps her spirit was lurking about him and wanted acknowledgement or some odd thing. Lord knows he hadn't visited her tomb in quite a while before yesterday.

Mustering his courage and making his decision, England took a deep breath and began to talk.

"Elizabeth, god I hated her, she was my everything," England blew his remaining breath out. That had felt good to say. He looked at America, who seemed to be listening with unwavering attention, something England had not received from him in a long time. With a firm nod to convince himself he was really going to tell this story for the first time in four hundred years, England began to tell his tale.

* * *

Joyful Note:

I would honestly like this to become a nice little trilogy and mark my journey into Hetalia Fanfiction. I'm not sure how well it will all turn out but rest assured that I will do my best to keep true to Hetalia and... _somewhat_ true to history. If you notice any glaring inaccuracies, awkward wording, typos or anything else disfiguring in this story please point it out and I will do my best to fix these because, well, I honestly want to do this story justice.

I got this idea from the Fanfiction You and I Will Fall in Love by Shatterdoll. It was really just one line she had France say. He said basically that there was more to Elizabeth's statement that she was married to England than you might think. Obviously this got me to thinking about how, yeah, in Hetalia that would take on a whole new context wouldn't it? And so this plot bunny was born and I will try to raise it to the best of my ability. So tell me what you think! I would really like to know.

Also, to those who are finding this story... it is currently on indefinite hiatus until I find the will to research again because right now I'm too overwhelmed with other things and my manual fanfic is more popular anyway...


End file.
